Chapter 13: The Waiting Game
Sunlight cut across the floor in sharp, guilty angles. Hyukjae woke to the smell of sex and dried champagne, his body a catalogue of delicious aches. The empty space beside him in the tangled crimson sheets was still warm. He heard water running in the suite’s marble bathroom.
Last night’s surrender felt like a dream etched into his muscles. The balcony, the city lights, the claiming. A shiver that wasn’t unpleasant ran through him. He stretched, wincing at the soreness in his thighs, the tender bite mark on his shoulder. The room was a disaster—clothes strewn, a bottle overturned on the carpet, the evidence of their reckless abandon everywhere. His clean-freak mind twitched, cataloguing the mess. Then he breathed, deliberately, and let it go. This mess was theirs.
The bathroom door opened, steam unfurling. Donghae stood in the doorway, a towel slung low on his hips, water gleaming on his chest. He looked relaxed, satiated, his eyes soft as they found Hyukjae.
“Morning, husband,” Donghae said, the word still a novelty that made Hyukjae’s stomach flip.
“You used all the hot water, didn’t you?”
“Probably.” Donghae padded over, the sunlight gilding his skin. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand finding Hyukjae’s ankle under the sheet, his thumb stroking the bone. “You look… thoroughly debauched. It’s a good look.”
Hyukjae huffed a laugh, pulling a pillow over his face. “I feel debauched.And sticky. Everywhere.”
“That’s my fault.” Donghae’s voice was a low rumble, pleased. He tugged the pillow away. “I don’t regret a single second of it.”
The look that passed between them was a live wire. Last night’s hunger, though sated, hadn’t been extinguished; it had banked into coals, waiting for a breath to reignite. Donghae’s gaze dropped to Hyukjae’s mouth, then back to his eyes. The air thickened, the quiet morning suddenly charged.
Without a word, Donghae stood and let his towel drop.
Hyukjae’s breath caught. Donghae was already half-hard, interest quickening under his appreciative stare. The command was unspoken but crystal, hanging in the space between them. Hyukjae pushed himself up, the sheets pooling at his waist. His own body responded, a traitorous throb of interest. But this wasn’t about his own need. This was about something else.An offering. A quiet testament.
He slid from the bed, his bare feet cool on the polished wood floor. He moved to the foot of the bed, where the crimson duvet spilled onto the floor like a pool of blood. Then he sank to his knees.
The position was one of utter submission, but in his chest, there was no fear, only a steady, pounding certainty. He looked up at Donghae, who had not moved, who was watching him with dark, intense eyes, his cock filling rapidly under the weight of Hyukjae’s gaze.
“Good,” Donghae whispered, the word like a benediction.
Hyukjae leaned forward, closing the distance. He didn’t take him in his mouth, not yet. He nuzzled the hot, heavy weight of him, inhaling the clean, soap-scented skin and the darker, essential musk beneath. He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the base, then trailed his lips upward along the thick vein. Donghae’s abdomen clenched.
Hyukjae reached the tip, where a bead of clear precome had already welled. He looked up, meeting Donghae’s eyes, holding the contact as he extended his tongue, flat and pink, and slowly licked the drop away. The taste was sharp, salty, utterly Donghae.
A ragged sigh escaped Donghae’s lips. His hand came down, fingers threading gently through Hyukjae’s sleep-mussed hair. Not pushing, just resting, a point of connection.
“Just like that,” Donghae murmured, his thumb stroking Hyukjae’s temple. “My beautiful man. On your knees for me.”
Hyukjae kept his mouth open, letting Donghae’s cock rest on his tongue, feeling the sheer, solid weight of it. He breathed, hot breaths washing over the sensitive skin, feeling it jump against his tongue. He wanted to suck, to take him deep, to show him what his mouth could do, but he waited. He wanted the permission. He needed to hear it.
Donghae understood. He always did. His grip in Hyukjae’s hair tightened, just a fraction. “You can have it,” he said, his voice rough. “Take it. Show me how much you want it.”
That was all.
Hyukjae closed his lips, sealing them around the head, and sucked, hard. Donghae jerked, a sharp inhale above him. Hyukjae hollowed his cheeks, drawing him deeper, his tongue pressing firmly along the underside. The taste flooded his senses, primal and intimate. He reached up, wrapping one hand around the base, corralling the part he couldn’t yet take.
“Fuck, yes,” Donghae groaned, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary thrust. “Your mouth is a fucking dream. So good.”
Encouraged, Hyukjae took more, relaxing his throat, letting the thick head nudge at the back of it. He bobbed his head, establishing a rhythm, slick sounds filling the sunlit room. His other hand drifted between his own legs, but Donghae caught his wrist.
“No. This is for me. You just take it.”
The denial, so softly spoken, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through Hyukjae. He focused entirely on the cock in his mouth, on the sounds Donghae was making, on the tightening grip in his hair. He worked him with dedicated focus, slurping and sucking, using his hand to twist on the upstroke. He let saliva drip down, messy and obscene, coating his fist and Donghae’s balls.
Donghae was breathing in harsh pants, his thighs trembling. “Look at you.Christ. My proper, clean, perfect husband, fucking your face on my cock. You’re a natural. A perfect, filthy natural.”
Hyukjae moaned around him, the vibrations pulling a ragged curse from Donghae.
“I’m close. So close. Are you ready?”
Hyukjae increased his pace, his jaw aching, a needy sound rattling in his own chest.He was ready. He wanted it. He needed the final, wet claim.
“Gonna come down your throat,” Donghae warned, his voice tight. “You’re going to take every drop. Aren’t you?”
Hyukjae nodded as best he could, his mouth stuffed full, his eyes burning with the need to obey.
Donghae’s control snapped. He held Hyukjae’s head firmly, not forcing, but guiding, as his hips stuttered forward. The first hot, bitter pulse hit the back of Hyukjae’s throat. The second.The third. Hyukjae’s eyes watered, but he kept his throat open, swallowing convulsively, taking it all, the taste and the texture and the meaning of it.
HE SWALLOWS.
He swallows, the final pulse a warm, bitter surrender down his throat. Donghae’s grip in his hair softens, becoming a caress as Hyukjae pulls off, lips slick and bruised. He doesn't move from his knees, just rests his forehead against Donghae’s damp thigh, breathing hard.
Donghae’s fingers traced the shell of his ear. “Look at me.”
Hyukjae tilted his head up. Donghae’s expression was unraveled, utterly soft. He leaned down, cupping Hyukjae’s jaw, and kissed him deep, tasting himself on Hyukjae’s tongue. The act was more intimate than anything that had come before.
“You’re incredible,” Donghae breathed against his lips.
A slow, familiar ache was building low in Hyukjae’s belly, a hollow throb that the swallowing hadn’t touched. The submission, the taste, had only fanned a different need. He felt open, used, and desperate to be filled again. The ghost of last night’s spend was still inside him, a sticky, drying reminder that made his face heat. He didn’t want it cleaned away. Not yet.
“I want you,” Hyukjae whispered, his voice scraped raw. His hands slid up Donghae’s thighs.
“You have me.”
“No.” Hyukjae shook his head, his cheek against Donghae’s skin. “I want you in me. Now.”
Donghae’s eyes darkened, understanding flashing there. He knew.Of course he knew. He always tracked the inventory of Hyukjae’s body. “You’re sore.”
“I don’t care.”
“And you’re still…” Donghae’s thumb stroked his lower lip. “Messy. From last night.”
A flush crept up Hyukjae’s neck. The clean freak in him recoiled at the thought. The rest of him, the part Donghae had remade, clenched with raw want. “I know. I want that, too. I want to feel it. All of it.”
Donghae searched his face, the air crackling between them. He saw no hesitation, only a deep, shocking need. A slow smile, tender and devastating, touched his mouth. “Okay. On the bed. On your back.”
Hyukjae moved, his limbs feeling liquid. The crimson sheets were cool against his back. Donghae followed, kneeling between his spread legs, his gaze traveling down Hyukjae’s body like a physical touch. He leaned forward, bracing himself on one arm, his other hand guiding himself.
The blunt, wide head of his cock pressed against Hyukjae’s hole. It was still slick from saliva, from last night’s efforts, from the remnants of Donghae’s earlier release still clinging inside. There was a moment of impossible pressure, his body protesting the renewed intrusion.
Then Donghae pushed in, a slow, inexorable slide that burned in the best way.
Hyukjae gasped, his back arching off the bed. The stretch was breathtaking, a delicious burn that spoke of thorough use. Deeper Donghae went, past the initial resistance, into the slick, used heat. Hyukjae could feel the difference, the intimate, filthy slide made easier by what had been left behind.
“Christ, you’re tight,” Donghae groaned, his forehead dropping to Hyukjae’s shoulder. “So fucking tight and wet.Can you feel it? Can you feel how messy you are for me?”
“Yes.” The word was a sob.He could. The sensation was obscene, a sloppy, perfect glide that sent shockwaves through his nerves. It wasn’t just Donghae inside him now; it was all of it, every claim from the night before, welcomed back in.
Donghae began to move, a slow, deep roll of his hips that wasn’t about frenzy but about feeling every inch. Each thrust was a thick, dragging pressure against his swollen walls. The sound was wet, vulgar, a stark contrast to the sunlit room.
“You take me so deep,” Donghae muttered, his mouth on Hyukjae’s throat. “Like you were made for it. This perfect, filthy hole swallowing me up again.” His pace quickened, losing its gentleness, driven by the raw, hot slide.
Hyukjae clutched at his back, nails biting in. The fullness was overwhelming, a piercing pleasure that bordered on pain. He could smell them, sex and sweat, a primal perfume.
“Look at you,” Donghae panted, snapping his hips harder. “My clean freak, begging to be dirty. Begging to be creampied all over again.”
He hooked Hyukjae’s legs over his shoulders, the angle brutal, perfect. Every thrust now hammered directly into that spot that unraveled him. Hyukjae’s cries became sharp, broken things. His own cock, trapped between their bodies, leaked steadily onto his stomach.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” Donghae grunted, his rhythm fracturing. “Gonna pump you so full. You’ll feel it for days.”
The promise tipped Hyukjae over the edge. His orgasm ripped through him, silent and blinding, his body clamping around Donghae in vise-like pulses. Donghae drove into him once, twice more, then buried himself to the root with a choked roar. Hyukjae felt the hot, new flood, a searing rush that mixed with the old, spilling out around the stretching width of him.
They collapsed, Donghae’s weight a welcome anchor. He was still inside, softening, a plug keeping the evidence sealed in. Hyukjae’s body trembled, utterly spent, a profound sense of peace settling in his bones.
Donghae nuzzled his neck. “Okay?”
Hyukjae could only nod, his fingers tracing the sweat-slick planes of Donghae’s back. The mess between his legs was a cooling, claiming reality. He had never felt more owned, or more secure.
After a long moment, Donghae carefully pulled out. The wet, leaving sound made Hyukjae shiver. Donghae kissed his temple, then shifted off the bed. He returned with a warm, damp cloth. Instead of cleaning him immediately, he just pressed it gently between Hyukjae’s thighs, a warm, comforting pressure.
“Later,” Donghae said softly, answering the unspoken question. “We have time.”